


to be good

by the_chaotic_lesbian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Pegging, Praise Kink, Trans Linhardt von Hevring, caspar gets pegged for his birthday, minor dom/sub undertones, thats it thats the fic, though its not mentioned explicitly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_chaotic_lesbian/pseuds/the_chaotic_lesbian
Summary: it's caspar's birthday, and linhardt's prepared one hell of a gift for him
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	to be good

**Author's Note:**

> i blame the caspar twitter groupchat for this one. yall are SO horny and i love you all. enjoy!

It’s Caspar’s birthday. 

Caspar knows this, of course, but he wouldn’t know it otherwise. He’d spent most of his day out, in class and then at the gym. And sure, he’s gotten a few congratulations, but it’s nothing compared to birthdays in the past. 

Still, he arrives home cheerfully, forcing back the horrible anxiety that’s threatened to plague him all day. So what if this hasn’t been the best birthday. No big deal! After all, he has his own sweet treat waiting for him at home. 

Sleeping, probably, Caspar thinks, as he twists the key into the doorknob, opens the door to the apartment that he shares with his boyfriend. 

His wonderfully adorable boyfriend, who hasn’t so much as  _ texted  _ him happy birthday today. 

Caspar doesn’t let things get to him that often, but that if that doesn’t sting just a little bit… 

“Linhardt!” He calls, stepping into the apartment. He kicks his shoes off at the door - a weird rule that Linhardt has, and he might not understand it but he’ll do just about anything if it means Linhardt is happy - and drops his bag down next to it, glancing around the apartment. 

No signs of life except for the small strip of light underneath the bedroom door. 

So he’s not asleep, then.  _ How strange.  _ Caspar checks his phone again, frowns at the time. Linhardt’s always napping around this time, it’s a routine for them both. So why... 

“Lin?” Caspar tiptoes to the bedroom, nudges at the door, “come onnnn, it’s my birthday, you can’t just-” 

The sight that greets him in the bedroom makes his jaw drop, words dying in his throat. 

_ Holy shit.  _

Linhardt’s sitting on the bed, legs crossed. He’s wearing a top that only barely covers his chest, sleeves falling off his shoulders, and a skirt with little lace ruffles that only barely covers his thighs, and a pair of boots that reach all the way up past his knees. That Caspar’s never seen any of this in his closet or on him before is almost telling in a way that he can’t quite explain, and he openly gapes. 

Linhardt turns his head, smoothes back a lock of dark green hair out of his face, gives Caspar a coy look. “Welcome home.” He uncrosses his legs to perch against the bed, bats his eyes. “Took you long enough.” 

Caspar’s mouth has gone dry. Is he drooling? He thinks he might be drooling.

Linhardt smiles, but it’s something unfamiliar, something he nearly doesn’t recognize. “Are you coming in? I didn’t get all dressed up for you for you to stand in the doorway all day.” 

Caspar’s hands are shaking, and he shuts the door with a loud bang behind him. He expects Linhardt to wince and complain of the noise, but his boyfriend merely laughs, still sitting on the bed. 

“Lin, I…” Caspar swallows, steps towards the bed, “am I dreaming?” 

Linhardt huffs, rolls his eyes. “I thought I was the dramatic one.” And then he stands, stretches his hands over his head in a yawn, which allows the top to slide even further off his shoulders. His collarbone is prominent and fully visible and Caspar hates the way his mouth waters. 

“Well, come here,” he instructs, cocks his hips in a way that flares his skirt out and makes it painfully obvious that he’s not wearing anything underneath it. “Don’t you want to be a good boy for me?” 

The words send blood right to his cock, and Caspar’s heart pounds in his chest. 

He doesn’t remember how he actually gets to the bed, only that he’s stumbling over his own feet. Why had he been worried about Linhardt earlier? He should’ve known better than to think that Linhardt would forget about his birthday. 

He sits down on the bed with a hard plop, feeling hot and sweaty and far too overwhelmed. This was not what he was expecting to come home to, but he’s not complaining. Linhardt hardly ever gets in the mood to be dominant, but goddess Caspar craves it sometimes. 

Linhardt stands over him, hands on his hips, eyes half-lidded and bearing holes into him. “Good boy,” he coos, and Caspar sucks in a breath sharply. 

It’s so easy for him, to lose all train of thought whenever Linhardt takes control, to allow his boyfriend to boss him around. He knows how to appreciate it, really he does, as he stares at Lin with hunger in his gaze. 

“Caspar,” Linhardt leans over to brush hair out of his face. Caspar shivers at the touch. “Be a dear for me and take off your clothes, would you?” His voice is low and husky, almost a whisper in his ear, and he shivers again. 

Caspar acquiesces. How can he not? When Linhardt is all dressed up for him - wearing makeup, even, dark eyeliner that highlights his blue eyes, a light smokey eyeshadow helping make him look even more attractive than he already is. If that’s even possible. Caspar thinks Linhardt might just be the most attractive person he knows already, if not the prettiest person ever.

Caspar tugs his shirt off, slowly. It’s still early enough for him to be a little cheeky, and he drags his shirt off as slowly as he possibly can. It catches on his muscles, and he can feel the way everything bulges as he stretches his arms over his head to get the fabric off. 

He can practically feel Linhardt’s stare, hungry and lustful and full of desire. He grins, tossing his shirt to the side, and then he fumbles with his belt, sliding it off so that he can kick his pants off as well.    
  


“Hurry up,” Linhardt’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and Caspar glances up at his boyfriend curiously. His eyes are dark, lips curled in some sort of frown, “I’m getting bored.” 

A bored Linhardt is never a good thing, so Caspar swallows. He fumbles with his underwear, hesitates for just a moment before he slides it off, and then he’s completely bare for his boyfriend to view, completely at his whim. 

(He’s already hard with anticipation, because  _ fuck,  _ Linhardt is so fucking sexy when he’s being bossy). 

Linhardt’s eyeing him with those half-lidded eyes and it just makes him shiver, feeling restless under that intense gaze. He wants something to do, something to put his hands on, somewhere to put his mouth. 

Linhardt’s always been good at knowing what he wants, though. 

“Look at you,” he says, in awe, like it’s something he’s never seen before, “so big and strong.” One of his hands comes down to press against his shoulder, and Caspar allows Linhardt to easily shove him down against the blankets, falling limply onto his back. 

And then Linhardt’s climbing on top of him. Hands press against his shoulders to keep him down, and those boots of his curl against his legs, smooth and unnaturally chilly. Linhardt’s hair falls into his face as he straddles Caspar’s hips, just above where he’s hard and aching for touch, and Caspar swallows thickly. 

“Lin,” he whines, bucking his hips up, trying to chase for friction. 

Linhardt makes a low “tsk” sound in the back of his throat, and he moves his hands to shove at Caspar’s hips, forcing him to still. “Enough of that,” he says, head tilting. “You’re going to be good for me, right?” 

Caspar swallows again, and he fingers at the ruffles on the skirt he can hardly reach, wondering what his boyfriend has planned. 

Linhardt bats his hands away. “I know,” he says, and his voice turns soft for just a minute, fond and sweet, “you have so much energy, don’t you?” 

He traces the line of Caspar’s hips, digging his nails into the skin just hard enough to make Caspar whine. He clutches for his hand, trying to force it lower, and Linhardt slaps it away again.

“Are you going to be still, or do I need to make you?” He asks, low and dark. 

Caspar’s eyes widen a little bit at the thought. 

Linhardt smirks, and he slides off of Caspar, standing. “Be a good boy for me,” and the amount of times he’s used the phrase  _ good boy  _ should be illegal, it sends sparks all the way down and draws out a low whine in the back of his throat, “and turn over.” It’s not a question, but even if it was, Caspar would obey without question. 

Linhardt disappears out of his line of vision, and Caspar focuses on his task. It’s not a hard one, they’ve done this before - though rarely - so he knows to scoot all the way up, turning so that he lays stomach down, propping his head up with his arms as he waits. 

He doesn’t wait long. Linhardt must’ve had this planned as well, because Caspar hears footsteps grow louder and louder until he feels the bed dip under the weight of another body, feels hands grab his own to pull them towards the headboard. Cold metal clasps around them, and then Caspar is left handcuffed to the bed frame, completely and utterly at the whim of his lover. 

And they have done this before, which is why when Linhardt leans over, taps Caspar’s neck with a finger and whispers “tell me if I need to stop”, he snorts, though it comes off as more of a whine. 

“Lin,” he groans, desperately needy. It’s clear now, now that he’s on his back, that his cock isn’t going to receive a lick of attention today, and he finds the thought so desperately appealing, but he needs something to happen. “Lin, Lin, please.” 

“Be quiet,” Linhardt pinches the side of his neck  _ hard,  _ hard enough to make Caspar groan again, “or do I need to gag you too?”

Caspar shakes his head, though he can’t help but find the thought undeniably hot. “I’ll be good for you, I promise, just please Lin, I need…” 

“What do you need?” Linhardt must be sitting next to him, and Caspar strains his neck to glance at him. He’s still wearing that lacy top and skirt, and it’s such a good look for him, his mouth starts watering again. He has an amused smile on his face, head tilted and hair now tied back. “Use your words.” 

Caspar swallows, thinking. “I need you,” he says, hoarsely, because he can’t think of any better way to voice his ever-growing desire. 

Linhardt’s smile turns from teasing to something more genuine, eyes fond. “Good boy.” 

He scoots upwards, presses at Caspar’s mouth with one hand. Caspar opens his mouth and accepts his fingers easily, swirling his tongue around them. He hears Linhardt sigh, and it only spurs him on, sucking on the digits with a vigor. Maybe if he’s lucky, Linhardt will let him eat him out… 

Linhardt sighs again, and then pulls his fingers out. “You look so pretty like that,” he comments, and wipes at some spit that had dribbled onto his chin. “So good for me.” 

Caspar whines, lifts his ass into the air desperately. 

“I know, I know,” Linhardt scoots down, trails fingers down his body. His hands press at the muscles in his back, snake around his torso to curl around his nipples, flicking at the erect buds. Caspar hardly has a chance to breathe as he’s forced to just lay there and take it, the hands digging marks into his skin. 

And then Linhardt bends over to bite his shoulder, and Caspar moans loudly. 

The spark of pain is just enough, just right, and he bucks his hips again, hardly able to do anything else. Linhardt mouths at the spot he bit, and then trails down his back, following his hands, sucking marks into his skin. Caspar bucks and whines and groans and by the time hands grab at his ass, he’s a shaking mess.

“Look at you,” he coos again, and he squeezes at Caspar’s ass, pressing his fingernails into the plump skin. Caspar wishes he could see it, but instead he’s resigned to bury his face into the pillows, his hands curling around the bars of the bed frame to keep himself steady. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Linhardt leaves for just a second, and Caspar nearly turns his head to look. He doesn’t, though, which makes it all the more satisfying whenever Linhardt returns, hands squeezing at his ass again, “so perfect for me, aren’t you? My big handsome boy.” 

Caspar sucks in a breath as something cold prods at his entrance. “Lin,” he gasps, only for Linhardt to shush him. 

“You said you would be good for me,” Linhardt scolds, and he dips his finger in to the first knuckle, cold and slick from the oil, “and I do so dearly want to hear you later, but for now you have to be quiet.” 

So they’re going to save the gag for another night, Caspar assumes. He pulls his head out of the pillows just enough so that he can turn his neck, glancing over his shoulder to gaze at Linhardt. Lin is sitting at his legs, hand at his ass, with a fond smile that’s completely out of place considering his domineering attitude. He’s so fucking hot, and Caspar wants to keep his eyes on him in that top and skirt and boots forever, but his neck strains too much and he’s forced to turn it back in. 

Linhardt’s finger pumps in and out, and Caspar bucks into it, hips bucking wildly enough that Linhardt’s free hand has to shove them down. And, yeah, he could easily free himself from that grip, but what’s the fun in that? 

And then Linhardt adds another finger, twisting and scissoring. Caspar groans into his pillow, wishing desperately that he could watch Linhardt work. 

“What’s wrong, big boy?” Linhardt asks, as he pumps his fingers, curling them viciously inside of him. 

“Wanna see you,” Caspar breathes, and he twists his head around again, blinking, “you went through all that- ahhhhh - effort getting pretty for me, I wanna see it.” 

Linhardt releases a jagged breath that suggests that he’s enjoying this far more than he’s letting on, “well, since you asked me so nicely…” he pauses, thinking, “if you’re a good boy for me, I’ll unlock you and let you watch.” 

As if Caspar needs any more incentive to be a good boy. He tucks his head back into the pillows as Linhardt pulls his fingers out, and he whines at the way he feels suddenly empty. “Lin…” 

“I got you.” He can hear the ruffling of fabric, and then a click of the harness that Linhardt prefers, and Caspar forces his head up again to look. The sight is overwhelming, Linhardt having ditched the skirt to wear the harness with his favorite strap, the fake dick one that Caspar had picked out himself. It’s a bright blue in color, which had been hilarious at the time, but now Caspar just swallows as Linhardt rubs it with oil, the dildo sitting snug against his hips. He’s on his knees above Caspar, hands spreading his legs apart, and the sight makes his mouth water.

Is he drooling? He might be drooling. 

Linhardt catches him staring and he smiles, tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Happy birthday, darling.” 

And then his hips snap and Caspar drops his head to the pillow with a loud moan. 

He’ll never get used to the feeling of being full. It hardly ever happens, because Linhardt hardly ever has the energy to do more than lay on the bed and accept whatever Caspar wants to deal him. Sometimes Linhardt lets him ride him, but most of the time he’s far more content on the bottom, where Caspar can fuck him just the way he likes.

But this feeling… 

_ Goddess.  _

Linhardt hardly gives him a moment to adjust to the feeling before he sets a wild pace. Caspar can hardly do anything more than grab at the bed frame, fists curling and uncurling over the bars, and weakly push his hips back to meet every thrust. He can feel hands on his hips, over his ass, and his completely-neglected cock presses against the blankets, barely getting any friction. He doesn’t think he needs it, anyways, not with the way Linhardt’s bucking into him like the world depends on it. 

“Lin,” he moans into his pillow, “Lin, Lin, fuck, please,  _ please. _ ”

“Please what?” And Linhardt digs his fingers into his skin, hard enough to bruise. He’s grunting, and Caspar can barely imagine how much energy this requires, how tired his precious Linhardt must be. 

“More,” he gasps anyways, shoving his hips back to meet each thrust, relishing in the feeling. Linhardt’s cock is big enough to stretch his hole, reaching further into him than his fingers could, mixing a little pain into the overwhelming pleasure. 

Linhardt hums, and he speeds up just a little. A hand sneaks around his ass to grab his cock, and Caspar gasps sharply as Linhardt’s hand pumps in time with his thrusts, twisting and curling. 

It’s already so much, and then Linhardt shifts his hips to press into him at a different angle. It hits that spot inside of him, and Caspar releases a muffled cry, hands clenching at the bars tight enough to turn them white. 

“There,” he gasps, and Linhardt releases a soft groan as he aims for the same spot, the same angle. Over and over and over again, until Caspar is seeing stars, squeezing his eyes shut. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. One, two, three quick thrusts to his prostate, accompanied by the pumps of his cock, and then he spills over, releasing onto the blankets with a loud moan. 

He goes boneless as soon as he comes down, collapsing onto the bed limply. Vaguely, he’s aware of Linhardt pulling out, hears the click of the harness sliding off, and then another click as his hands fall to the pillows below him, handcuffs coming off. 

“Goddess, Lin,” he breathes, and he turns onto his back now so that he can look at his boyfriend in all his glory. He may have ditched the skirt, but he’s still wearing the lacy top and the boots, and his hair has fallen out of the bun he had put it in to fall loosely into his face. 

Linhardt smiles, though he looks positively exhausted. “Hello there, sunshine.” 

Caspar has enough energy to grab at Linhardt, though he can’t quite reach. “Come  _ here,  _ I want to hold you.” 

Linhardt rolls his eyes. “So needy.” But he’s taking off the boots, one by one, and then slipping the top off as well. Later, Caspar will feel guilty for not returning the favor, but right now it’s his birthday and he just had a long day of classes and some amazing birthday sex and he just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, Linhardt curls against his chest, and Caspar’s able to pull him into a kiss before settling to rest his head against the top of Linhardt’s hair. 

“Happy birthday,” Linhardt murmurs, reaching up to pull his hair loose as he sprawls on top of him. “That better have been a good gift.” 

Caspar grins, lazily, “that was perfect, starshine. You’re so sexy when you’re bossy like that.” 

“Next time I’m going to gag you.” 

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, and he presses a kiss to Linhardt’s forehead appreciatively. “I’ll look forward to it. Now sleep, starshine, I know you must be tired.” 

“But,” Linhardt yawns, eyes drooping, “but it’s your birthday-” 

“-and I will let you sleep.” Caspar cards fingers through his hair, “you’re also amazingly sexy when you’re sleeping. You’re just always sexy, I think.” 

He earns a chuckle for the remark.

Sex is usually not enough to tire Caspar out enough to sleep, but the combination of the long day and sex and Linhardt sleeping against him causes him to shut his eyes, peaceful in the knowledge that Linhardt loves him. 


End file.
